Hushed Confessions
by Dusked
Summary: Severus has been placed into a temporal induced-coma, but it just so happens he is not completely asleep, enabling for him to hear one or two confessions. Written for l0stinl0ve 's Magic Competition, and the Potions: Draught of Living Death option. One-shot, AU.


**word count: **3,194**  
disclaimer: **nothing belongs to me, no matter how much i wish it did.  
**notes: **written for **l0stinl0ve 's ****_Magic Competition,_ **and this one-shot refers to the **Potions: Draught of Living Death **option. enjoy.

* * *

_**Hushed Confessions**_

* * *

Severus couldn't open his eyes.

They were stuck; glued together like cement, yet he felt the faint involuntary twitching of his eyelids, causing his lashes to tickle his skin.

_Am I dead?_

No, he couldn't be. If he were, he'd be able to open his goddamn eyes.

He realised then that he couldn't speak, either. His jaw was fastened shut, locked in the one cramped position. He was parched; his throat tense, and the burning dryness made it feel almost brittle. Even the tiniest swallow scraped and clawed his windpipe like knives.

_I should be dead. _

Of course he should. The amount of flesh that had been savagely torn from his throat and the blood loss he'd suffered would surely be considered greater than a minor injury, even major. He wondered how he'd even managed to survive such a critical attack.

"Do you think he's okay?"

_What was that?_

He heard a rough grunt. "I think so. I mean, he's breathing, isn't he?"

"Just because he's breathing doesn't mean he isn't in pain, Ronald. He's sure to be in agony from the mass of venom in his system."

_Oh, Merlin no._

He already had the blistering heat of poison in his chest beginning to stir around the rest of his body, a throbbing ache stretching through each one of his limbs. He could even feel the thin ribbons of blood trickle down his neck and splat against the pillow where his wound had not yet healed fully. Now, he would have to endure the golden bloody trio's voices rattling at his eardrums. Surely he'd been through enough today.

_This would be less painful if I were dead. Please, let me die._

A third voice slashed through his torment. "Should we get Madam Pomfrey?"

_Why am I not surprised that you're here, Potter. You and your little friends will never give me a moment of peace._

"No," Granger replied. "She's given him the Draught of Living Death. There wouldn't be much change in result."

_Draught of Living Death? What—Why am I not asleep? Honestly, Poppy, you were given one job and you cannot even supply the correct dosage of a sleeping draught to actually knock me unconscious. _

He guessed Poppy had given him enough to unfortunately make him drowsy and incapable of movement, yet enable him to hear quite clearly. But it hadn't been enough to send him completely under as he wished.

"Perhaps we should go," Granger said, the slight hint of concern in her voice. "Even when he's asleep he looks distressed. Come on."

_Yes, please! Leave, you insufferable brats. _

He caught the scraping of chairs across the marble floor, followed by the shuffles of their feet before a door opened and then slammed shut. As far as he could tell, he was alone; the pleasant treat of silence quickly sinking in.

_Finally. _

…

Not an hour had passed when some nuisance had rudely disturbed his precious silence. Yes, he had counted the whole fifty-four minutes, as it was the only thing he could do to occupy time in his unconscious-yet-conscious state.

The interruption was a woman, no less. He suddenly felt something damp gently blot his forehead with careful precision; the movement and pressure so light and delicate it was almost as if she was scared he'd cave in and collapse beneath himself at any moment.

Had he not been frozen to the bed, he would've batted her bothersome hand away. _Stop fussing over me, foolish girl._

The cold moistness was removed from his head, and he heard the wet slap from what he assumed was a cloth connecting with a table surface. "There you are, sir. You looked a little…flushed, so hopefully that cooled you down."

_Oh, no. Why have you returned? Go away, ignorant child. _

"You probably can't hear me right now," Granger muttered lowly, the screech of a chair piercing the air as she sat down. "Which, thankfully, will make this a lot easier."

_Make what a lot easier? What the _hell _are you talking about now? I swear—if you dare approach me with any request for extra credit, so help me—_

"You're quite the hero, you know."

_W—What? Have you so much as broken into my personal stores and happened to consume more than a _few _fumes, Miss Granger?_

She laughed, the titter shaky with nerves. He could practically feel the unease shred from her. "It sounds ridiculous, but it's true," She sighed, awed. "What you did for Harry..."

_Bloody hell. It has been a few hours, and already Golden boy has scattered my memories without a care in the world. Wonderful… No doubt my secret has made its way around the school. Potter, you illiterate little shi—_

As if using Legilimency one him—not that she'd have the deft skill for it, anyway—she said softly, "You needn't worry, sir. It's only Harry, Ron and I who know."

_Yes, thank you, Granger. You've no idea how assuring that is._

"And…I just wanted to say…" She hesitated, unsure whether to continue.

_Spit it out, girl._

She inhaled deeply, her voice wavering under the strain. "I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."

_I do not believe I asked for your sentiments. Now, please leave before this becomes increasingly difficult for the both of us._

"I say this on behalf of Ron and Harry, too. We're sorry for the way we perceived you, for misjudging you." He could very nearly hear her worrying her lip between her teeth. "And I apologise for setting your robes on fire in First Year… and for stealing from you in Second Year, though you already knew about that one…given you were the one to reverse the changes."

_Mm, yes. Perhaps there is _some _humour to you, after all. _

"I'm glad that's over," she mumbled. "Well, I suppose I should leave you to rest."

He heard her shift to get up, and then he felt her _there, _and then he felt the slightest pressure to his arm; the shy touch of her fingertips only lasting a second as she whispered, "Get well soon, sir."

And then she was gone.

…

"Professor?"

_What now?_

The person cleared their throat. "I guess you can't hear me, then."

_Oh, bugger off, Weasley. Better still bring back Granger. I can tolerate her over you. _

He did not sit. Severus could hear the awkward shuffling of Weasley's feet on the floor, his discomfort just as clearly evident as Granger's.

"Erm, so, how're you feeling?"

_Fan-fucking-tastic now you've arrived._

"Oh—wait, you can't answer that."

_Believe me, I want to, and then I can tell you what I really think of your unwanted interjections. _

"I saw Hermione leave here only a few minutes ago. By the way she looked, she must've told you that we know."

_Unfortunately. _

"Bloody hell…but I mean, Harry's mum!"

Even through the brink of excruciating pain he was experiencing now, another jerk yanked at his chest at the mention of Lily. It may have been his imagination, but he could've sworn his fists twitched in move to fist them, but it seemed to have gone unnoticed.

_Shut up, Weasley._

"Er, sorry," he rushed out at the idiotic mistake. "Just…_Bloody hell…"_

There was a silence.

"Perhaps I should go."

_Yes, perhaps you should, before I force myself awake just to kick you out by that twiggy arse of yours. _

There was nothing more said as he left.

…

His heart faltered as _another _hand touched his arm.

"Oh, Severus," a thick, Scottish voice tsked. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

_A coma, it seems. One you most likely insisted on._

"You're a brave man for what you've done." Although the statement was strong, he could identify the falter of something hidden beneath the surface.

_What is it, Minerva? Tell me, dead or alive, asleep or awake. It doesn't matter._

"However, I'm afraid, that may be seen differently in the eyes of the Ministry."

_That is anything but fresh news to me. I knew the exact consequences of my job as a spy. Even not fully knowing what those consequences would be._

She was definitely pacing. He could tell from the way her voice would distant out every now and then, and the clatter of footsteps against stone. "Despite the reveal of your true allegiance lying with the Order, no one can say for sure what will follow, even if your actions were strictly obligated."

_I know, Minerva, I know. _

"I have spoken to Kingsley, and he believes you have a strong chance that you will not be sent to…Azkaban. How strong that chance will be, is uncertain."

He felt her stop by his bed. She grabbed his heart and gave it a light squeeze before pulling away. "You may be a snarky, annoying piece of work—even as a student—but I knew you were never the type to follow Tom Riddle."

"Hang in there, Severus, you've a lot more ahead of you that needs to be dealt with."

Her touch prickled his hand even five minutes after she'd disappeared.

…

He felt trapped.

It had only been a few hours, but it was already becoming too much to bear. He couldn't cope with the capability to hear and feel things, but faced with pitch black. _Blind._

A thin coat of sweat polished his forehead; droplets slid down the side of his face and weaved between strands of hair. His body continued to burn, though a steady throbbing had joined, thumping against his skin, even as far as his fingertips. He'd known it would be like this, but he hadn't thought he'd fail at handling the pain so quickly.

He was close to having yet another heart attack when the door opened.

The person pulled out a chair and settled down into it, but they did not speak. Not for ten minutes, actually. The time slowly ticked by, dragged by.

_For Merlin sake, if you're choosing to stay, then speak. _

"Thank you."

_Draco._

Severus heard him audibly swallow, thickly. "Thank you…for what you've done for me."

_Yes, yes, as is everyone else. Now, please go. Four people intruding are enough._

"And I'm sorry for…refusing your help when I most needed it. I was too focused on pleasing my father and…_ t_Keeping myself _alive _from _him,_ that I never really understood how difficult it would be on my own."

_Please, Draco._

Finally, Draco got up; the speed of his movements showed how obvious his perturbation was, but hovered by Severus' bedside, managing to say the last words before leaving. "I'm glad you were named my godfather."

…

It had been a very _long_ six hours.

He was exhausted, worn out. Of course he was still in immense pain, but his mind was weighing him down even more; lightheaded and hazed, he just wanted to sleep. A few minutes or days, he didn't care. He wanted _enough _to clear his mind.

He was on the very verge of falling under, but not quite there yet. More so overlooking it.

"Sir?"

Usually, he might've flinched at the sudden voice, but this time he was too tired to react. He'd been too tired to even register someone entering his room in the first place.

"I hope you can hear me."

_You're the last person I want to listen to, Potter._

"This will be as painful for me as it will for you, seeing as I've hated you for the past seven years."

_The feeling is mutual. _

Severus could hear Potter grinding his teeth. "But…I feel an apology is in order."

_Apology not accepted. Goodbye. _

"I'm sorry for the way I…saw you, if that counts for anything. Had I known what was really happening on the outside, maybe my view would've been different." He sighed heavily. "I may not like you, but I don't have the good enough reason to hate you anymore."

Severus felt a vein pump in his temple, his smothered rage becoming close to dangerous, no matter how quickly he was slipping away into unconsciousness.

"And that you did it all for my mother… it's…something I believe only _you _could be able to do. Risk your own life for her…that's mental. But quite admirable… _even if it is bloody weird_."

_Are. We. Quite. Done. Here?_

"Even in your sleep you look as though you want to murder me. I think that's my cue to leave."

_Indeed._

"Goodbye, sir," He mumbled. "And if you were to return to teaching…even as Headmaster, you may just be able to live up to Dumbledore's shoes."

Severus blacked out before the door had even closed.

…

_Bloody hell, it's bright._

The light was so strong Severus was certain his retinas were destroyed, shrivelled to a crisp.

"I must be dead now."

He pressed his fingers to his lips; the chapped and flaky ones the words had just effortlessly fallen from. Though it had scratched through his arid throat once he had spoke, it felt bloody _brilliant _to have finally been released from his verbal prison.

Not only that, he was able to move. Yes, there was still a little pain, but the greater part of it has gone, leaving a dull but bearable ache.

Scrubbing his eyes wearily, he sighed raggedly, asking himself in a husky murmur, "Where the hell am I?"

"Having trouble recognising your own home, are we, Severus?"

His neck cracked as it whipped around, and he immediately noticed that the voice was right; the faint outlines of Spinner's End furniture circled him, clear enough to see but not touch. He was not drawn to it—or rather, the person standing ahead.

His breath unnaturally clogged in his throat as he settled on the old, white–bearded wizard yards away from him. He managed to cough the words out, however a strained whisper, "Headmaster?"

Albus smiled, crow's feet crinkling the skin in the corner of his eyes. "I no longer go by that title. Please, call me Albus."

It was quite amazing the wise man could be so infuriating so quickly. "What are you doing here, Albus? You're _dead_. I—" …_killed you._

He stepped closer, his hands linked together in front of him. His robes were stark white, almost blending in with the surroundings. "You're not wrong about that. I am indeed dead, but that does not mean I cannot visit the place in between the afterlife and living. The place you are currently in."

Severus remained rooted to the spot, his legs failing to respond. "Why?" He asked, the slightest hint of a pled emerging. It was funny how once placed in the company of a man who'd protected him for most of his life did Severus's walls crumble. "Why am I here? Why aren't I dead? I _want _to be dead."

A crease folded Albus' brow, though the frown was not unpleasant. "Are you sure that is what you want?"

"Yes! Why else would I be here?"

"There are few reasons, but I know two that are most likely." The old wizard sighed thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with their usual delight. "It may be, perhaps, the living world is not yet ready to let you go, or it could be you yourself that holds a sort of attachment—clinging to the favourable chance of continuing on with life."

Severus averted his gaze, and growled weakly, "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You have the choice, Severus. That is why you are here, to make the decision on either going back to Hogwarts, to your life, or to throw that all away."

"Everything in my life has _already _been thrown away."

"I do not believe that is true."

"Oh, really? So what is there worth living for on that godforsaken place?"

"Hogwarts—"

"That is nothing to me."

Albus sighed again, more sadly this time. "Do not lie to me, Severus. Hogwarts has always been your home ever since you were eleven. I saw it with my own eyes."

He closed his eyes, trying to force away the resigned thought that Albus was right. "That one thing is not enough to convince me."

"Another, is the students—"

Severus could not stop the bark of laughter from bursting past his lips. "The _students? _It appears you do not know me, at all."

"I beg to differ," he challenged softly, the swirl in his eyes suspiciously resembling compassion. "I am aware you are not very fond of them, but they make you _sane. _Do you not see? _You _protected them not so long ago, Severus. If you really did not care even the smallest amount, you would've let them die."

He glared at him. "I did it because you ordered me to."

"That may be so, but not all of you agreement was because of that. There was part of you that may have protected those students without my instructions."

Severus' fists clenched at his sides. "Those are still not reasons for me to return. It could be good in the afterlife. I would have peace, I could finally be free of stress, and then I could see—"

"Lily?"

Severus' gaze locked to Albus', and he dejectedly whispered, "Yes."

"Yes, you could. But do you believe she will be just as eager to see you as you are her?"

"Of course," he snarled softly. "It's been two decades—"

"That may not have been enough time for her to have forgiven you."

"You do not know anything," he hissed, his fury crackling beneath his skin.

"I know that if you decide to turn to the afterlife in hope that a married woman would have given you absolution—you will have made the biggest mistake, and you will know that you have."

"And what is supposed to happen if I return, die fifty years later, and she has still not forgiven me?"

He smiled. "Then that, my friend, is how it is supposed to be. Not only are you increasing the chance of her forgiving you in the future by waiting, but also you might just find someone else who you can spend your life with until you leave and move on—_together._"

Severus considered Albus' words. In many ways he was more right than wrong. He _would _be crushed if Lily rejected him, again. He would be alone. Albus may be with him, but only Severus can stand so much of the old man. He'd rather not take that risk. And maybe, back at home, there _was_ someone waiting for him. Walking the streets of London. _Living _their life, just as he should be.

"You do know I'm going to hate you for this."

Albus was in front of him now, smiling, as he laid a hand on Severus's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Yes, I do. But not as much as yourself for making a wrong decision."

Severus only nodded. Albus removed his hand. "I will see you again, Severus, but for now I shall say farewell."

A gush of wind. A flash of light. And then black.

…

The effects of the sleeping potion were reversing as he was suddenly eased into full alertness.

His fingers flexed carefully at his sides, his toes curling beneath the grazing fabric of blankets, and his eyelids fluttered in anticipation.

It was now the time to grow a pair of bollocks and face the world as Severus Tobias Snape.

He opened his eyes.

* * *

**the end**

* * *

i know some will think "why would Severus be in a coma for only a few hours?" well, maybe he wasn't. he could've been stuck in one for months, he just wasn't fully aware or was bad at counting minutes.. but i'll leave that for you to decide..


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